


Here's What I Can Do: Survive

by ProphecyGirl



Category: DayZ
Genre: Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, Video & Computer Games, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8592418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProphecyGirl/pseuds/ProphecyGirl
Summary: Effy Blackwolf-Roth thought she had her future all figured out.. but here comes the end of the world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Effy is an original character from the DayZ Underground server, an organic role-playing community for DayZ Standalone. (http://steamcommunity.com/groups/dayzunderground)

 

> _[A plain black diary is left laying on the mantle inside an old farmhouse alongside several photos of a happy-looking family. There are also several photos of a young blonde girl through the years showing her doing Color Guard, running track, in a volunteer firefighter shirt, and in full ROTC Class C and Class A cadet uniforms. The diary is written in until three-quarters of the way through. On the very last page, the handwriting is particularly hastily written and slightly smudged from what appears to be tears.]_

Dear Diary,

I don't even know why I am bothering to write this entry. It's probably just habit and frankly, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Diary, you may well be my last friend left on earth. Maybe it's just therapeutic to sit and write as though nothing has changed. When Daddy passed a few years ago, I thought it was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. I wanted to believe that he was watching me still and would have been proud of me; but it becomes harder each day for me to believe in Heaven, to believe that this is what God wanted for us.

The infection that took Mama from us has now also taken Bethany. I still remember holding her in my arms when Mama brought her back from the hospital, my baby sister. Even at the tender age of nine, I knew the world could do terrible things and I swore I would always protect her. I've failed, and I can only hope neither Daddy or Mama were able to watch me do so.

 

> _[A few lines are written, but scratched out to the point of being completely unreadable.]_

I have to believe that Sean is still alive. Our connection is so strong and always has been; I think I would feel it in that part of my heart we always called 'the twin ventricles' if he were dead. I felt it there when he broke his arm on the park slide, I felt it there when that bee sting at the beach nearly killed him. How could I not feel it in my heart if the person I shared a womb with was gone?

So this is where you and I part ways, Diary. You have been a good friend over the years, but I have to be a soldier now and f _[the ink is smudged beyod recognition for several lines]_ and maybe Daddy, too. I have to find Seth, alive OR dead.. or even worse. Maybe someday he and I will come back to this house we were born in and you and I will reconnect. But right now, I have to close the door on the past. I can't be Effy Madison Blackwolf-Roth: farmgirl/pre-med student/ROTC cadet/sister/daughter anymore. It's time to be a soldier. Put to use all those years Daddy took us camping, taught us to shoot, showed us how to live off the land. I think I can make it.. and I have to believe Sean can, too. I haven't got anyone else left to care about now, and I'm afraid of what that means for me.

GoodBye, Dearest Diary.

Don't forget me, okay?

 

> _[Immediately in front of the mantle is a coffee table. The only thing on it is a small stack of worn-out Eloise picture books, some of them with inscriptions inside the front cover addressed to Effy, Sean, and Bethany. A post-it is stuck to the top book, and written in the same handwriting as the diary is simply: "Here's what I can do: Survive."]_

 

* * *

The foliage is a blur as I run full-speed through the forest. My empty stomach aches and my mouth feels full of cotton. I need food, but my feet continue to pound the hard-packed dirt beneath me and I force myself forward to the chorus of groans behind me. I can't spare a second to look behind me and count, but last I saw there were three infected hot on my heels. Their soul-rattling moans echo inside my head and I try to fight back the image of Bethany's blood on my hands.

_Feel the guilt later, Effy. Right now, survive._

My lungs feel ready to explode as I burst out of the forest and onto the familiar feel of pavement. With renewed energy, I tap that place of strength deep inside me and force my body to remember those early-morning PT sessions; my standard issue navy blue shorts and grey 'ARMY' shirt soaked in mud and sweat and even blood from the sharp rocks scattered across the football field. Afterwards, I ran the track until tears streamed down my face, the extra ten pounds I was carrying becoming more apparent to me than they'd ever been before.

No extra pounds now, my stomach says with a groan of its own.

The huffing of the infected still follows me as I push my body to the limit, crossing a set of train tracks with the grace of an Olympic runner and quickly falling to the ground. I pick myself up as fast as possible, grabbing a sharp stone from beneath me. No time to mess with it; they're catching up. I take off again, heading for a bodega just up the road. The glass windows have been shattered, but the door opens when I push it. I slam the door shut just as the infected arrive, and I back up against the wall and stare into their empty, seemingly cataract-rich eyes. There are four of them now, and I can only pray that they don't know how to open doors.

With one eye on them, I turn a little towards the concrete wall and quickly start grinding the stone I picked up against it. Their eager screeches send chills down my spine and I try desperately not to see Bethany's face as I sharpen the stone into a makeshift knife. I try not to remember the feel of my boot-knife sliding into the base of her skull, the blood on my hands and her pale blonde hair matted to her grey skin. It may have been merciful, but I don't know how I'm supposed to live with it. Or even if I should be allowed to.

In their eagerness to get to me, they've broken some of the remaining glass, and their foul-smelling blood begins staining the door. I move my hands quicker and try to forget everything else. Finally, I've got a makeshift blade, and very carefully I move within range of the door. The infected seem excited about the dinner being delivered to them, and I do my best to stay out of grabbing range as I plunge the stone through the broken panes of the door and right into the skull of the nearest one, a male in a simple shirt and pants.

I breathe through my bandana as I pull the stone knife back. My hand is covered in rotten soft tissue and stale blood, and I dry heave a little as I do it again to the female. I duck back out of range for a minute, trying to catch my breath and choke back the sickening smell. It takes me a minute to realize the other two are both dressed as firefighters, and a pang of guilt goes through me as I remember the guys at my station. Had this been their fate, too? Had they been driven to insanity by mindless hunger and then taken out at the hands of a young girl who'd lost everything? The thought makes me pause, but there's no time to grieve a life that no longer exists.

I take them out as quickly as I can, whispering an apology and quietly stand behind the door, looking at the helmets laying dirty and bloodsoaked on the ground. There is a pail in the corner and I move quickly towards it, bending over to vomit into it.

Not much comes up, and my stomach protests with a loud growl.

Holding my makeshift knife, I climb the stairs slowly, listening for any sounds of life.. or, I guess, of un-life. I quietly start searching each room on the second level and find a small backpack with a can of sardines and make a face. Of all the food I could possibly find.. but beggars can't be choosers, and I open the can and quickly devour the contents. It almost tastes good, but not quite. After I've inhaled the slightly expired fish, I sink onto the edge of a stranger's bed and take off the pink baseball cap that once belonged to my beautiful baby sister, and I curl up around it, my stomach still thumping angrily within me, and finally let myself feel.

I sob uncontrollably, hopelessly, as it grows darker outside, and I can hear the infected milling the streets under the moon, and find myself wishing they would just take me. Wishing they'd make it easier for me to just give up. I think of Sean and promise myself that if he is dead, I won't have to fight anymore. Reminding myself that he's probably looking for me, too. Knowing I need to keep surviving long enough to find my twin brother, or at least what happened to him, I let the grief wash over me and cry myself to sleep.. again.


End file.
